


On The First Day of Christmas, Azazel Gave To Me (a brother who's named Sammy)

by Wolfstar4evr



Series: Twelve Days Of Supernatural Christmas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Baby Dean, Baby Sam, Dean is four, Fluff, Guilty John, Supernatural - Freeform, Twelve Days Of Christmas, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:31:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfstar4evr/pseuds/Wolfstar4evr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>14th of December 1983, and Dean is worrying about how festive Sam's first Christmas is actually going to be. John is determined to make it happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On The First Day of Christmas, Azazel Gave To Me (a brother who's named Sammy)

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

"Daddy?" Dean's little voice sounds below John, and the man looks down to find his four year old staring up at him, large green eyes glazed over with a pleading look.

John's hand clenches around the beer bottle in his hand, and he sighs. They've been staying at a neighbour's since M- no, too soon to say her name - since she died and they're always saying he drinks too much. He drinks too much to look after his children. Dean and Sammy need him. He drinks too much. With that thought in mind, he turns in his chair and puts the beer down on the small table next to him. Leaning down, he rests his forearms on his knees and looks down at his oldest son, attempting a warm smile. Since current events they're harder to do. "What is it Dean?"

Dean seems to have forgotten what he wanted to say, as he takes a moment, simply looking up at his father for a long minute before speaking. "I need to go to the store."

"Why's that?" John asks, but he thinks he already knows, and he cringes knowing that he's the one who should have brought this up, but he didn't, lost in his own grief.

"I need to get Sammy a present," Dean leans up and whispers, almost conspiratorially, as if someone's listening he doesn't want to hear. "Will you take me there?"

John sighs heavily, settling back in his seat but not picking up the beer. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he regards his son carefully. The truth is, he doesn't have much money, as he hasn't been working since the end of October. The garage offered to pay him while he took time off, but he didn't want to be paid if he wasn't doing any work. He regrets that now; he's not sure how he can afford Christmas presents for the boys. Especially as it's Sammy's first Christmas. They should have more than one present each. "Sure," He finally says. He'll have to dip into the boys college savings, though. Hopefully it'll be worth it. "When do you want to go?"

"Now, please," Dean whispers, still with a very slight lisp on the 'please'. "Sammy's asleep, and I don't want him to know we were gone."

A part of John feels like reminding Dean that Sam will most likely wake up before they're back, and that he's only seven months old so he's unlikely to care that they left anyway, but instead he doesn't say anything. Instead he simply stands, holding out a hand for Dean to take and they leave the house together, letting the people they're staying with know where they're going (Dean informs them almost proudly, and they smile an amused smile each in response). He isn't drunk by any means, but he's sure he's had too much to drive, so he guesses they'll have to walk. But that's okay; the store is only fifteen minutes to walk and they have an hour before it closes.

Once they get there, Dean lets go of his hand and takes off towards the toy aisle. When John gets there a few seconds later, he finds Dean has already got a few things in his arms: a bag of toy army men, some crayons, some pencils and a colouring book. With yet another sigh, John aproaches his oldest, as it doesn't escape his notice that Dean has chosen the cheapest things in the aisle. "Dean," He whispers, smiling softly as his son looks up at him. "Don't you think Sammy's a bit young for these?"

Dean bites his lip. "They don't cost," He finally says, and John can feel eyes on them as he says that; half because of what Dean said, half because the Winchesters haven't really been out and about since... well, since October. "An' I want Sammy to have a good Christmas. It's his  _first_ Christmas." 

John nods, carefully prying the toys from Dean's arms. "There's no need to worry about money, Ace," He murmurs, pulling his son in for a hug, passing the toys back onto a random shelf. More people are staring now as he smooths a hand over Dean's hair. "Let's just get you and Sammy some presents and make it the best Christmas ever, yeah?"

He feels guilt constricting his heart at that, as he's almost overly aware that this might be there last proper Christmas (maybe _ever_ ), and even though it's unlikely either of his children will remember, he wants to make it memorable. So he follows Dean around with a rapidly filling basket, full of soft balls and toys (and an extraordinarily stuffed dog, because even though he can barely speak Sam _loves_ them).

Every now and then Dean will find a toy that is four year old appropriate, but not seven month old appropriate, stare at it for a minute, but then leave it on it's shelf and go looking for presents for Sammy again. John simply shakes his head and adds whatever it is to the basket, within reason. For instance, he doesn't add a small plastic gun that doesn't even shoot anything just light up, as he doesn't want either of his children playing with guns, or handling them (he studiously ignores the small voice at the back of his head that says _yet_ ; for God's sake Dean isn't even five).

"Now, Dean," John says seriously when his son seems to be satisfied with all his choices. He straightens Dean's coat in a serious manner while smiling, making his son giggle. "We now have a very serious mission. Wrapping paper or gift bags?"

When they finally make it to the register, only two minutes before the store closes, John has a very tired Dean on his shoulders, hanging on to his ears with both his little hands. The cashier smiles at them widely, and tells John 'Merry Christmas!' as they leave, the older Winchester's arms laden with three full bags of toys of toys and wrapping paper (Dean said Sam would like to tear the stuff off his presents more than open a bag, even though John's sure Sam isn't at the capacity to do either of those things) for his boys' first (in Sammy's case) and last (in both of their cases) proper Christmas. Dean seems to be falling asleep on his shoulders, so he quickly moves him to his hip, keeping him supported with his son's little arms around his neck and one arm under Dean's legs. Gently, he kisses his son's temple, thinking of him and Sam, and what the New Year will bring them.

He can only hope his sons will forgive him for what's coming, but at least he can give them this. At least he can give them one last Christmas.


End file.
